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November 2009 entries

November 19, 2009

I have become quite possibly the world's (or at least the county's) most heinously ill-adjusted sleeper. Honestly, I thought it was bad enough when 2 or 3 a.m. became the standard, but lately it's become increasingly common for me to go to sleep around the time the annoyingly chipper local sunrise newscast begins. I then sleep about 4 or 5 hours, and the cycle begins again. Maybe it's partly exacerbated by the fact that Mr. S. is frequently out of town, and that I don't yet have any children to weaken my will in the daylight hours. This doesn't happen every night, but the occurrence existing at all is...well, to say the least...irritating.

Anyone not new here already is aware of my night owl tendencies. However, I'm starting to wonder if the only solution to this increasingly sub-human situation will be circling the clock entirely until I end up back at normal.

I'm aware enough to understand that for me this probably isn't actually a *sleep* issue, but a result of the spinning top that is my brain activity. 'Round and 'round she goes...where she stops, nobody knows. It's awful and true. I once heard that often insomnia (on the FALLING asleep end) is a result of the anxiousness created by not feeling as if you've accomplished enough during the day. Maddeningly, I know full well this is my main source of sleeplessness. Yes, I KNOW this. I'm continually battling my flawed sense of discipline and overzealous imagination. I could not be more disgustingly aware of this. And yet...

I am awake.

What sort of things am I doing between the hours of 2 and 6 a.m. on these unfortunate days, do you ask? What could possibly be worth staying up that long if one is not required to, hmm? Well, the answer to the second question is NOTHING. NOTHING IS WORTH IT. But to answer the first question...

Working Out: No, it doesn't look quite this rad when I do it, but I have been known to unfurl the yoga mat and pull out the resistance band and weights a time or two well past midnight. Hey, if I'm going to be awake, I might as well use the time edging closer to getting into every one of my pairs of skinny jeans, right?

Watching Old Movies: I often turn to classics to soothe
my mind in those wee hours. Of course, I'm also more susceptible to
achey swooning and resenting my birth date while watching my beloved
Jimmy's withering gaze. Throwing in a bit of Redford's
"Barefoot In the Park" buttoned-up rwawr doesn't hurt, either.

Writing Scribbling:
I seem to think I am blessed with strokes of brilliance during the wee
hours. Unfortunately, little of substance is written, and much of my
GENIUS is relegated to the width of Post-Its, or scribbled on notebooks
spread throughout the house. So...yeah, that's pretty productive. It
ends up looking much less THIS...

...and much more THIS.

The Internet Time Suck: I don't think I have to explain to any of you how this one works.

Reading Until My Eyeballs Fall Down: The effectiveness of this is directly relative to the quality of the book. The problem with this is: Big Ta-Dunk of a Book = Zzzzzz; Delicious Book = Voraciousness. Frankly, I don't think I can make myself read a snoozer just to bore myself into a coma. However, even a good book will eventually get me to the land of Nod if I'm at least in the bed.

Editing, Re-Editing, Editing: Of course, as a photographer and debilitating perfectionist, I can get easily swirled down the soapy drain of tweaking photos for hours upon hours, and if I'm not careful I'll end up with 5 versions of each photo. This is a particularly dangerous task to take up in the middle of the night, because critical thinking is simply...well, simply squat. And after more than 4 hours editing, I begin to look slightly crazy.

Doing THIS:

(feed reader folks, there's a video here)

Writing This Post: So, you see, if any of this seems disjointed or babbling in nature, there is a perfectly logical explanation.

Oh, people, people, people. I have tried hot tea with milk (decaf), shutting my eyes and waiting (does. not. work.), pre-bedtime bubble baths (pleasant, but not magical), Unisom (made me doped & dizzy the entire next day), relaxing music (annoyed me), white noise (less annoying), melatonin (noticed little if anything), working out like a crazy person at night (okay, this works a little bit)...the only other thing I can think of is to do each of these together and desperately hope they create the perfect storm of exhaustion that will not merely make me sleepy, but make my brain WILLING to take me to dreamland.

November 10, 2009

We walked by a few pet stores one day strolling around the West Village during our trip in October, and if one thing is true everywhere (no matter how much you detest them being in the place), it is this: walking past a puppy nose pressed against a window without stopping is nearly impossible. This fellow didn't look like he was in an especially sunny mood when we passed him, but as I turned around to snap a photo of the street scene behind us, I caught a moment that made me smile.

November 05, 2009

We typically don't pay a lot of attention to Halloween here in the SarcomiHaus. Sure, it's nice to see the neighborhood children dressed up when they come knocking on the door, but as a standard Mr. S. and I barely otherwise acknowledge the holiday. For some reason, this year I had an impulse to stop into the Halloween superstore driving by it a few days prior. I was thinking it might be fun to get Mr. S. a wig or mask since he would be walking around with his brother and two of our nieces to trick-or-treat.

Well, what began as a quick errand resulted in me wandering aisles of smelly plastic and giant hats, placing a disoriented call to my mother discussing the merits of foam viking armor versus pirate patches, and in the end I had a wig for each of us with only a vague idea about how it was all going to come together with clothes we had in our closets. After all, I personally haven't dressed in any costume for Halloween since I was 18 or 19 years old, and I think the same can be said for Mr. S as well. The results were, well...

This venture into the world of dress-up managed to terrorize our 13-year old cat. He scurried and crouched and hid stubbornly under the bed and refused to come out until we looked like ourselves again. He completely had no idea who we were. Of course, the dogs didn't realize anything at all was out of the ordinary - BIG GIGANTIC DERRR SHOCKER. (Please ignore disgusting skanky firehose dog toy in the photo below.) I whipped off that wig and dug into a pile of makeup remover wipes within 5 minutes of the end of the treat-dispersing. (And yes, that IS a George Foreman grill behind me, yo. Grilled cheese melts away stiletto boot pain, my friends. Also, Boot Hate is probably the cause of the look on my face.)

This is me.

I'm an animal snuggler, Lover of Words and raging introvert who others often confuse for an extrovert. I'm typically caffeinated as a rule, BE IT BY BEAN OR BY LEAF.

This is the year I'll be talking a lot about my journey to grow further as a photographer, artist, music addict, YOGISTA, writer, volunteer, life adventurer, ALMOST-VEGETARIAN, runner, book devourer, knee sock connoisseur and procreator (yes, after 13 years we're finally working on that one, and it may be a more twisty path than we anticipated).